


Staccato

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Guilty Crown
Genre: Allusions to Child Abuse, Allusions to Physical Abuse, Character Death, Gen, Mass Murder, Surrealism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Sharply detached and separated.  Sometimes it is not a good thing.





	Staccato

You bastard!

Yes I am. Segai could have laughed.

The huge man rushed at Major Segai and he didn’t even think, bending just underneath his barreling fist and retrieving the knife from his boot. Two short strokes and he could smell blood. He did not watch the man fall. Instead he counted the corpses – 

Count them like you count your measures.

“Two short,” he heard himself say, “oh dear.” Oh dear oh dear oh dear. He hadn’t felt that at all and didn’t know whether to embrace it or despise it. He was so close to the truth and in wake of that everything else had become dull – dull and numb and mechanical and this was _absurd._

It has been ten years. Ten years of filling in the blank spaces, was the answer going to _erase_ them even more? 

For the first time in so long he was desperate. Desperate in a way that made his hands hurt until he got his chromatics right and it made everything blurry, falling out of focus and so far away (yet only just out of reach). Collect control set. Or do you want to lose your fingernails again?

No, I’m so close, so close. He smiled and with a slick, dull sound, pulled his knife from the big man’s warm body. It was as close to him as the keys were and this time he wouldn’t let them get away, no matter how much blood he got on him, no matter how slippery his fingers became. I’ll have my spaces filled in if it takes everything I have.

Dying for the truth, this time, he might not mind. Segai swiftly cleaned off the blade and sheathed the knife, clasping his gloved hands swiftly behind his back as he descended the stairs alone. Under his own fingers, his pulse beat out a steady staccato the likes of which would have made them proud. He felt alive.


End file.
